have you ever wanted to just quit?
recently, i’ve been overwhelmed with work (9-5 job work) to the point of having little to no time/energy to read or write poetry. add to that, nearly all of my recent submissions (scant as they may be, for same reason) have been returned with unsympathetic form rejections. and there you have my reason for wondering why i even bother and whether i should continue. BUT, this is NOT a plea for people to stroke my ego (and if you do that in the comments, i will delete them. Seriously. I’m the site admin, and I have that power).
My question is: have you ever what’s the point of writing poetry? or if not writing it (b/c I think for many of us there is no option but to write poetry), what’s the point of trying to put it out into the world? or what’s the point of the establishment of poetry… or what’s the point of the journals, if no one is reading them (including and especially the people who are submitting their work) and the ones that people are paying attention to are publishing lots of the same people?
I keep asking myself, What are they looking for? Of course, I think this line of thinking is how poetry becomes homogenized and thus the development of alternative presses/publications, but then the “alternative” seems to have its own way of being that becomes homogenized, so an alternative alternative develops and thus the cycle continues…
And I think there are definite trends… the “I” is in vogue… the “I” is out of vogue… everything is images… everything is metaphor… everything is long and rambling… everything is succinct and mysterious… everything starts en media res… everything has a narrative arc… this is of course exaggeration. But I guess that’s the question: do you ever have a hard time separating out Poetry — with a capital P and all its establishment, expectations, and other assorted baggage — from the poems that you want to write, the poetry (little p) that you see all around you every day. Some times I see a poem happening in the world, or I feel a poem stirring inside of me, and I think, oh, why bother, I’m sure somebody’s already written it, and better.
So, yes, this is my personal shit that I’m throwing out to the world, but I wonder how the rest of y’all handle it. Whether you think there’s a crisis of homogeny in the Establishment, whether you think there’s even an Establishment? Or do you think I’m just full of shit and feeling sorry for myself?
8 Comments
Keep submitting your work. For every piece I submit I have hundreds of rejections. A rejection of a submission does not mean the piece is not good, maybe just not suited for the publication you sent it too. I have had stuff rejected one place that was accepted somewhere else. Most recently I had a poem that was rejected by a magazine 3 years ago accepted by the same magazine last month.
Small and large publications are guilty of accepting work from a certain stable of authors but every so often you can break that cycle.
My favorite standard for submission at a well known magazine read as follows:
“If your work has been accepted at the following magazines we will consider publishing your work” So of course I check the others out and they all had the same requirement with the same magazines listed! So you live and learn, tolerate rejections as it is part of writing and move on to the next submission.
If I find out you are feeling sorry for yourself, (you shouldn’t), I will require you to a mandatory viewing of a cowboys game and that you cheer for them!
g
You know it’s funny to come across this posting today, just yesterday I received another rejection and usually I am pretty immunite to them, but this one was part of a line of various types of rejections and as I was reading yet, another unsympathetic “no” hoping that at least they woud put a charity line in there like “you came close, but not exactly our style” something, anything, I began to wonder the same thing…am I really good at this? Am I a writer? Is my poetry good enough to read outloud to strangers? Or worst of all, is it good enough to read to people I know….I think the answer is that, well, unless you are completely dillusional (a possibility which I have already considered), if you think that you have a talent,you are probably right, I write every day on the train as I come home from work, poems come to me when I see certain things out in society, and I think they woudln’t be just coming to me all the time if they totally sucked, I mean, would they? The truth is the most important thing a person can know is that no one else matters. If you love something, do it, do it until other people love you for it…don’t pay attention to rejections, take critique, yes (which even I have a hard time sometimes accepting) but ultimately what you think of yourself and your talent should not be based on other people’s reactions to your work, because with varying times and places and connections, they are going to be different….so here I am giving positive advice on something that I have struggled with and am not sure of myself, Autumn I know you said you don’t want any compliments so I won’t hand them to you, all I will say is look inside, look straight ahead and don’t stop for a second to doubt you who you are, and your calling in life.
I have often wondered what the point of writing is. That though has basically been the source of every writer’s block I’ve experienced in the last ten years. Sometimes I think about what I do with poems - I move words around on a page.
I move words around on a page.
That’s it. And I think that, somehow, is going to affect a change in the world? No frigging way. Sigh.
That’s why I decided to stop doing Poetry, with a capital P - no MFA for me. I don’t want to teach it. I don’t want to study it in a classroom. I want to experience it, to live it. I don’t want to play the games of the Poetry Establishment, I don’t want to participate in the nepotism and political back-rubbing. I want to write, and read, and have fun with it.
Screw the PoBiz.
Rachel, feeling decidely rebellious today.
g, i will never cheer for the cowboys. never.
alla, you should be a motivational speaker (which is not to say you shouldn’t be a poet)
rachel, it’s funny… what you are articulating is i think exactly why i’ve been having trouble. it’s about the process rather than the publication credits. and i totally get that (although sometimes, like saturday) i was feeling mired in the pobiz crap. but i think i’m feeling mired also because I’m so far away from my process right now. life has been unforgiving in terms of allowing me the space & time to read & write. so i’m not getting to write, yet i’ve got all kinds of ideas… so there’s a bottleneck. but then when i do get the time, there’s all this pressure like “okay, now, make the magic happen.” so, i sit and stare at the page and write nothing. ugh! but then of course even that is little more than a self-fulfilling prophecy.
i think in the end, the decision you’ve made to distance yourself from PoBiz is where i’m arriving. i guess for each writer its probably a little different, but i’m realizing that i’m putting my energy into things that are draining, rather than replenishing. i need to stop thinking that at some point the drains are going to turn into wells, see them for what they are, and walk away.
I actively practice inoculating myself against discouragement. I am aware that when certain thoughts set in, I’m in trouble. Often they start with jealousy over another writer’s success, often someone who has been unfriendly to me in the past. Someone who wouldn’t give two rat’s eggs about my work, and from there it’s an easy extrapolation to the rest of the reading world.
I have a small collection of books, essays, etc that I refer to whenever this poison begins to seep in. One of my favorites is from the choreographer, Mark Morris, quoted by Joan Acocella in her wonderful book 28 Artists and 2 Saints. Morris was invited by the Belgian govt to show his work for 3 years. He was consistently booed at his performances, and the reviews were scathing. He stuck it out the entire time. He didn’t quit. Someone asked hin how he stood it, and he replied, “It’s a review, not a gun.”
This is a huge problem for artists from the famous to the obscure. I have had to mount an aggressive compaign with myself, because I don’t want negative thinkng to sidetrack me even for 5 minutes. Acocella’s book addresses this, but you might consider coming up with your own literary vaccines–things you can read that cut through the crap and set your heart straight again.
It’s a thought, any way. Best of luck and whatever happens, keep writing!!
Autumn, I just read your blog and feel compelled to respond. When I first started sending my work about 35 years ago, I received acceptances (as well as rejections) early on. I don’t send out submissions very much any more, because I’m too busy at my other poetry work, but I wrote some new poetry recently and sent it out. I received the rejection yesterday. I’m not one who papers the wall with rejections; I threw it out. I always bear in mind that the sense of fulfillment comes in the writing of the work, not in the publishing. Yes, it is important to share it, but it is quite a trick to find those editors who appreciate one’s work. Who knows what is in the mind of editors? It would take a book to elaborate on that, on the various reasons why the various editors reject a poem. I have received rejections that said “we’re filled up” or some other cop-out. I became an editor to be a non-editor. To never say to someone, “there’s no room,” to rather ask “can I hold it for the next issue?” I’ve often made suggestions to poets I’ve rejected of how to improve their work and I’m happy when they are open to advice, work with the poem, and resubmit it. But more to the point of what you are saying: personally, in my writing, do I ever feel like quitting? No, because it’s not about the acceptance but about the creating or the making of the poem. What can I say. . .but once when I was thinking of a poem and couldn’t sleep, I finally got up at 5 a.m. to write it and my husband said, “Your poetry is a powerful force.” Yes, it is a powerful force, so don’t try to quash it. Love it. Nurture it. When I receive a rejection this is what I think: “Do I agree with the editor that this poem is unacceptable?” If so, I work at editing it. If not, I think, well, it’s that journal’s loss and I’ll try another. Keep on giving readings. Exposing your work at Open Mics, seeing how it is received, is a good gauge, and an opportunity to get instant feedback. Don’t give up.
there have been poems — poems by tess gallagher (”each bird walking”), patrick kavanagh (the later sonnets — “the hospital,” etc.), paul durcan (”six nuns die in convent inferno” and many more), lucille clifton (”hips” - hey, i needed to be reminded that i wasn’t the only one with ‘em) — that have made me feel better about myself or have moved me so profoundly that i feel like a different person after reading them. and while i do not profess to achieve the same effects, i truly hope that other readers/writers/humans will be affected by what i write as i have been by what i have read. it’s like that song, “last night a DJ saved my life…” we have no idea who is listening or reading.
The hardest thing for me as well is carving out enough time to write–it took decades (work, children) to decide I would have to make it a priority if I was ever to do it, and I realized it was now or never. I get satisfaction out of “making” a poem, finding the right language. I think you have to like the process to make writing a habit. Reading good poetry primes the pump for me. You have to have tunnel vision about pobiz and learn how to do the best you possibly can with what you do–you’ll find an audience. Getting discouraged by rejections is pointless–you just have to persevere. I submitted one of my poems at least a dozen times to rejections. Then I rewrote a few lines I was never satisfied with, and this is the one that ended up being accepted for publication (this fall, Ibbetson Street)and also submitted for a Pushcart Prize. I remember reading a poet’s comments in one of the Year’s Best series–his poem having been rejected 17 times! That always stuck with me. Hang in!!
Post a Comment